Notarctia proxima

Here's an attractive tiger moth, Notarctia proxima - or less formally, the Mexican tiger moth. I found it this last spring along the Kings River a few miles east of Fresno. Actually, I should say that it found me, or rather, it found my light.

This second image is of the moth on my blacklighting sheet. It's a pale individual, making it a male. The female is darker, especially the hind wings, which also bear several dark areas. I've always loved seeing tiger moths ever since my high school biology teacher, Bob Mower, showed me his impressive collection. At the time tiger moths were considered a separate family (the Arctiidae). They are now considered a subfamily within the Noctudiae.  

The habitat shot is of Avocado Lake (just a stone's throw from the Kings River) at dusk.

Ellychnia californica

In February (this year) I posted a picture of Ellychnia megista that I found in the coastal redwoods of California. About a month ago, I came across another Ellychnia (E. californica) species in the Sierra Nevada above Bass Lake.

We were camping at about 5,000 feet near a small shaded stream with several broad-leaf annuals growing along the bank. I discovered it resting on a mossy stone. You can see that the black band on the pronotum is less parallel than in E. megista. It's a bit more triangular. A pretty beetle for sure.

Urocerus californicus

Last month while hiking through Sequoia National Forest at about 7,000 feet, I came across this impressive horntail (Urocerus californicus). There were large cut fir trees and pines about and I expect that it was attracted to these. Horntails are our largest insects in the suborder Symphyta (in the order Hymenoptera). Immature stages feed in rotting wood. This individual was over an inch and a half long (larger with legs and antennae extended).

Horntails are related to bees and wasps. They are not nearly as frequently seen as their more familiar relatives because they don’t visit picnic sites or pollinate flowers. That said, we have several species in the US. My compliments to Nathan Schiff et al. who just recently (last month in fact) published a beautifully illustrated guide to our fauna in the Canadian Journal of Arthropod Identification.

Batyle ignicollis

Last month while wandering among the scrub willows of a tributary of the Duchesne River (near Altamont, Utah) I happened upon this attractive longhorn beetle (Batyle ignicollis). It was resting on the willow leaves in a cobble-strewn riparian habitat.

It is a variable species with a handfull of subspecies sprinkled accross the Western US. It is about an inch long. It isn't an uncommon insect at the right time of year (and in the right place). But then again it isn't all that common either. Finding it made my day.

Laphria fernaldi

There are a handful of robber fly species in the United States that look like bumblebees. They are an impressive group. The best way to tell the difference is to count their wings. Robber flies (as with other flies) have two wings. Bumblebees (as with other bees) have four wings. Of course this isn’t the easiest thing to detect in living individuals. In the field, it’s usually best to look closely at the body. Robber flies are narrower and have a narrow mouth (like a little knife projecting from its head). Bumblebees are typically wider and their mouthparts are usually projecting in and out of flowers. Robber flies, on the other hand, don’t visit flowers – at least not to get pollen and nectar. They are usually looking for other insects to feed on.

I happened upon this male Laphria fernaldi a couple of weeks ago near Altamont, Utah (in Duchesne County). The area is a high desert sagebrush and willow habitat near Lake Fork Creek. This is without doubt one of the most beautiful flies in the US. Not only is it an impressive bee mimic, but the bumblebees that it resembles are those species with an orange or salmon colored spot on the abdomen – not your typical bee. It was kind enough to let me take a picture before it buzzed off.

Freeman Creek Bears

I had my first really good look at a wild bear yesterday morning in the Freeman Creek Grove east of Porterville (California). I was by myself (probably not the best thing) enjoying a short backbacking trip into a forest conataining many sequoias. The entire area is very impressive. There is a nice diversity of trees (besides the sequoias) and the forest is managed to leave many old snags alone. This makes for a habitat rich for bears. The undersotry contains a lot of fallen trees in various stages of decay (harboring bear food).

 Just before bedding down for the night, I discovered a fresh bear scat near a copse of sequoias conatining very suitable sleeping places for bears. I was impressed enough with the area that I decided to move elsewhere to sleep. I also made sure all my food was in a bear canister (which is required by law) that I kept a distance from my camp. Early the next morning I woke up and was enjoying the fresh day in my sleeping bag when I heard the sound of breaking branches and of bark being stripped off of dead trees. I also realized that the sound was not coming from the direction of the trail. I put my shoes on, gathered my camera, and quietly got out of bed. I was a little bit nervous.

I saw the bear before he saw me (I'm assuming it was a male - since I'm guessing it weighed close to 400 pounds, which is bigger than females are known to get). He was light brown and only about 70 feet away. Fortunately there were two fallen logs between him and me. My adrenalin started to take control of my judgment at this point (hence the poor quality of the pictures). Fortunately, I didn't run. I did, however, remember that black bears are not normally aggressive to humans - especially if the humans appear big enough and aren't threatening their cubs.

Just as I thought this, the bear discovered I was nearby (probably cought my scent) and hopped over the first log in my direction. This definitely got my attention. In fact it was a real rush. I was certainly a bit scared (maybe more than a bit). Acting on instinct, I stood up next to the fallen log in front of me and tried to look very big. The bear stopped and looked around. Then it saw me and we watched each other for several seconds. At this point it was only 40 - 50 feet away (I measured the distance later). After a few clumbsy attempts at taking a picture, I watched in releif as he gave me a grunt and then climbed back over the log and hopped away. 

I was stunned and very impressed. I also decided that it was time for me to pick up camp and head on my way. I had only just started to do so when another bear, this one a bit smaller and darker brown, bounced into my camping area. I'm guessing that this was the big boy's girlfriend. We were both startled by each other's presence at the same time. When I reached for my camera, she got spooked and ran away - at least partially. Some 30 feet off, she turned to look back my way. I tried to make my camera work but only got a poor picture. She then left with a huff and I never saw either one of them again. I have, however, been thinking of them a lot. It was a magnificent, yet frightening, experience. Next time, however, I am going camping with a bear-sized can of pepper spray. Just to be on the safe side.   

Libellula lydia

The common whitetail (Libellula lydia) is a fairly regular visitor of our farm here in Fresno, California. The male with its striking white abdomen is more often photographed (and more approprioately named). The female (like the one below) lacks the bright abdomen but the wing markings are more intricate. This one landed in one of our apricot trees a few weeks ago. The nearest standing water is a small pond half a mile away - not much a distance, really, for these strong fliers.